Another Lifetime
by Kainos Ktisis
Summary: Drabble collection. Just trying my hand at different AU situations. Cloti. Ch 18: Burst - She dreams of him and, she thinks it might be her but she wished it wasn't because that would mean that she'd betrayed him.
1. Stealing: thiefverse 1

A/N: Yes, that's right, I'm starting another collection. I realized that my WOTD ones were all canon universe-ish so I decided I wanted to try my hand at more AU stuff. So yeah, I got 50 words from a random word generator as prompts and I'm going to try to limit these to around 500 words. Hope you like!

**Disclaimer**: Final Fantasy VII and all characters within belong to Square Enix. I just manipulate them into various situations to amuse myself. I make no monetary profit from this. (If only...)

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**ANOTHER LIFETIME**

_#23_: Stealing  
_Summary_: He wasn't about to let her get away with taking what was his.  
_Word Count_: 458

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The mission was supposed to be simple. Get in, get the files, and get out. It was routine, something he could have done in his sleep. Or rather, something he _should_ have been able to do in his sleep.

As it was however, he doubted he was going to get much sleep at all tonight, especially considering how he'd managed to let that slip of a girl steal the files from his very hands. Who knows how long it'll take to track her down now.

...Not that she could be considered just a slip of a girl. Oh no, she was most _definitely_ all woman.

His cheeks warmed at the memory of her pliant figure pressed into him as they hid from the guards, their bodies melding together in the dark to avoid detection. He'd only been able to catch the briefest glimpse of her dark wine eyes behind the full face mask that she wore, but they glittered with all the seductive power of a siren's song. Her hair was caught in a tight bun, though a few soft tendrils had freed themselves during their earlier tussle. His imagination wandered to what it would feel like to run his fingers through the full silky length of it or maybe even to bury his nose in that alluring little niche behind her ear...

A triumphant yell coursing through his earpiece broke him from his quickly degenerating thoughts. "Yes! We got a signal. Good job remembering to stick a tracker on her, Spiky!"

Cloud ignored the heat in his face when he remembered just _where _he'd placed the tracker. He'd be lucky if the thief didn't slap him silly when she realized that the "innocent" slip of his hand wasn't quite so innocent, though whether she'd be more angry at having had a tracker placed on her unawares or at how low down her back his hand had oh so conveniently slipped, he couldn't say.

"Though ya know, we wouldn't have to bother with all this if you'd just managed to get it right the first time."

"Shut up and tell me the coordinates Yuffie."

"I can't do both, Spiky," chirped the all-too cheerful voice in his ear.

"Just give me the damn coordinates!"

"Someone's a little touchy. She's hot huh?" Cloud's silence told her everything. Yuffie snickered. "You're not too far behind. She's about three blocks north and one east of you."

Cloud grunted his acknowledgment before breaking into a faster run. He'd be damned if he let her get away with this. Nobody takes what is his without proper payment. As for what the proper payment would be…He didn't bother trying to hide the smirk.

A name and number would work nicely. Dinner would be even better.


	2. Library

A/N: So...you know how I said I was going to try to limit myself to 500 words? Yeah. Total fail. There was no way to shorten this and then I thought of splitting it apart or something, but I really just couldn't do it. Hence, why I'm posting something that's nearly 3x longer than what I said I'd do. Oops.

Anyhow, this is a bit of a departure from what I'm comfortable with writing. I don't usually write much on physical anythings because of several reasons. One, I don't have personal experience in that area. Two, I tend to focus more on the non-physical aspect of a relationship. Three, I'm just not all that comfortable writing it. Lol...now it sounds like I've written something very 'mature' (I use that term with great sarcasm because I personally don't think sex is something that should be exploited as it is in media, even if you're of legal age. I shudder to think how many enemies I've now made...lol), but it's not even close. Just a more intense make-out session than I would usually do, but I wanted to go where my writing led me, so this is it.

Also, I think I've been reading way too many possessive!Kenshin/Kaoru fics lately, so if Cloud seems a little (a lot) out of character, that's why.

Anyway, enjoy this piece of fluffy fluff and don't forget to leave a review! Thanks!

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**ANOTHER LIFETIME**

#17_: Library  
Summary__: There are, at times, extra incentives to studying.  
Word Count__: 1,425  
Originally Posted: October 6, 2009_

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"_A library is no place to find love."_

Or at least that was what Tifa's overly romantic best-friend-but-soon-to-be-not-if-she-didn't-stop-meddling-in-her-(lack of) love-life often told her in reference to her spending more time in the library than anywhere else. Most of the time, Tifa would just laugh it off, saying that she was here to study, not to ogle guys.

She very conveniently failed to mention the presence of one sinfully attractive spiky-haired blonde with what had to be _the_ absolute most intense blue eyes that's ever graced the world. She also found it utterly unfair that he had such envy-inducing long lashes to complement said eyes.

Aerith would probably lynch her if she knew just how much ogling she'd really done in the past months since _he_ started showing up every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday afternoon and sometimes even Friday. Part of her wondered whether she should be disturbed that she knew his schedule so well, but she justified it by thinking that anyone would notice the person who'd come sit down a table away from you almost every other day.

Besides, it wasn't as if she was in the library only to watch him. She was genuinely here to study and if he happened to be in the area at the same time as she, well then that was just a pleasant bonus.

_A very,_very_pleasant bonus_, added the hormone-induced part of her mind. She wasn't dishonest enough with herself to deny it.

And so her after-class routine was fairly fixed; go to the university library to study (and ogle) and endure Aerith's teasing when necessary. She never approached him to ask for a name and he didn't seem to notice her so she was satisfied to watch him from a distance.

That is, until the day she came back from a two week absence during which she'd had to forego her daily library trips to pick up her little brother from school and watch over him, a task that up until now had been taken care of by a family friend who had a daughter around the same age as Denzel and who worked at a home office thus allowing him to watch the kids. Two weeks ago, Barret left for a business trip and that left Tifa with childcare duties, something she enjoyed immensely, though she couldn't help her thoughts from wandering back to that delectable-looking piece of man who oh so loved sitting across from her.

However, as much as she thought she'd missed seeing him, apparently it was nothing compared to how much he'd missed her, which she was finding out first-hand by the way his body was now pressed up hard against hers and his face hovering dangerously close. The cold metal of the bookshelves dug into her back but she didn't dare move away from it for fear of getting any closer to him than she already was. She could do little but stare at him with wide eyes. Maybe she was dreaming?

He dropped his forehead to rest on hers and from this vantage, she could make out every speck of green and gray that speckled his blue eyes.

_Eep!_ No way she could be dreaming this. It was almost too unreal to _be_ unreal.

"I didn't see you for two weeks. I was worried."

She swallowed the dry feeling in her throat and leaned back into the bookshelf even more to get as much distance between them as possible. It was getting increasingly difficult to think straight with him crowding around her so closely. Yet, it wasn't that she was uncomfortable; maybe the problem was that she felt a little _too_ comfortable with his warmth gathered around like this. Her protest was made with a feeble voice. "You don't even know me!"

He shook his head and stepped even closer, causing her to whimper both at the intensity of his proximity and…well, no. It was just his proximity. "I know that you're here every single day from two to six without fail. I know that you're business/economics major, probably also minoring in sociology from the books you read. I know that you have a little brother you call every day at 3:30 to make sure he's home from school safely. I know that I was absolutely terrified when you didn't show up in here three days in a row and by the time a week had passed, I was kicking myself for not asking you out earlier!"

Seeing the agony etched so clearly in his features, Tifa somehow knew that he was ripping his heart open for her to see. Her heart wrenched painfully in her chest to see him so distressed while another part of her jumped for joy, now that she knew that he'd noticed as much about her (maybe more) than she had about him. She reached up a shaking hand to cradle his cheek lightly and she marveled at how soft the skin there was. Her touch seemed to calm him, and he leaned into her caress, his too blue eyes losing that aching hurt and replaced with something so tender, her heart nearly broke at the overwhelming emotions displayed so openly for her to see there.

Not really thinking about what she was doing, only that she couldn't stand there watching him watch her with _that_ expression in his eyes and not do anything, she tilted her head up the few inches between them and the choir in her head rejoiced when lips pressed on lips.

He was stunned out of a reaction for the briefest time, but she could feel the moment her action registered because suddenly he was smiling against her lips and his hands, which had previously been gripping the shelves on either side of her hard enough to bend metal, were suddenly wrapped around her waist and fisting in the hair at the nape of her neck. He swallowed the gasp she made when his tongue gently probed her lips for entrance and suddenly he was in and she could taste him like she was using her taste buds for the first time. She reveled in the sensation of the burning trail of his mouth when it left hers long enough to travel across her jawline to the sensitive skin area behind her ear. Biting her lower lip, she held back the moan he elicited when one of his hands ventured just beneath the hem of her shirt to touch the soft skin of her stomach.

It was difficult to remember that they were in a public library open for anyone to see their…affectionate display, but the (quickly malfunctioning) rational part of Tifa's brain reminded her that they were in the resource section on the influence of ancient myths on Wutaian arts and architecture and so no one would be likely to disturb them (or be disturbed) anyhow.

It was unclear to either of them how long they remained locked in their own little world of newfound passion and affection—both were aware that it was too early to say love—but the soreness in Tifa's back finally forced her to place her hands on his (very well-defined) chest and gently push him back.

His eyes were still seductively dark and the intensity that he watched her with sent pleasant tingles down her spine. When he spoke again, his voice was low and husky and maddeningly alluring. "You know, there's still one thing I don't know about you."

Breathing heavily and not trusting her voice not to break completely, she managed to gasp out, "What's that?"

"Your name."

Eyes flashing wildly, hair in complete disarray, and breath coming in short spurts, Tifa couldn't hold back the exuberant laugh that bubbled from her throat.

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"_A library is no place to find love_."

Tifa smiled. No, but it was an excellent place for love—or at least in this case, very _very_ strong attraction—to find her.

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Thanks be to: **Fairheartstrife**, kitsune13, **mom calling**, vLuna, **Vanilla Raindrops**, JingYee, **Synchypn0tic17**

You guys are awesomeness embodied. I will most likely heed your call for a continuation of the first one; as for when, however, that I cannot say.


	3. Travelling

A/N: I have been accosted with a nasty case of sickness. It probably didn't help that, against all good judgment, I tried to play a game of basketball in the midst of being sick. Suffice to say, I got sicker. :( Aside from that, school is currently kicking my butt. I never realized what a big difference taking four upper-divs vs. taking 2 upper-divs and 2 lower divs could make. Eeesh.

Anyhow, I don't know if I currently have it in me to work on any of my multi-chapter stuff, but worry not because I shall get back to them soon enough. I just wanted a slight diversion from my constant paper-writing. Hence, this. Again, another departure from what I'm used to of, but I think it came out okay. The premise came from old Chinese beliefs that ghosts (usually female ones) often resided in umbrellas. Why umbrellas, I have no clue, but I remember some of the scariest ghost stories I ever watched were the old Chinese ones set in the 1920s that talked about these ghosts. Anyway, with that last tidbit of random information, here's another strange working of my mind. Enjoy.

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**ANOTHER LIFETIME**

#14: Travelling  
Summary: Her fate was not one she would ever wish upon another.  
Word Count: 521  
Originally posted: October 14, 2009

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She'd lost track long ago of how many hands she'd passed through in the centuries since her death. But perhaps that was part of her curse. Unwilling to pass on to true death but also unable to detach herself for too long from the object that housed her soul.

The pattern was always the same. She would be forgotten in a dusty corner somewhere, sometimes for years at a time, until another unfortunate sod chanced across her path. They'd be drawn to her, inexplicably, and in return she brought disaster upon them. It was never on purpose, but somehow her mere presence was enough to fulfill any ill omens.

The first few times it had happened, she'd blamed it on coincidence, but as time and again, one poor fool after another fell headlong into disaster upon gaining possession of her, even she could not deny that her presence was a bane.

Eventually, myths were made of her. The lady folk spread her tragic story as entertainment and warning. Her legend became synonymous with the fate of any woman who proved to be too wanton, too sexually promiscuous or something of the like.

"_You're still consorting with the miller's son? Are you mad? The woman whose soul was cast into an umbrella for exactly such lewd behavior should be warning enough!"_

Never mind the fact that none of them knew what her story was, that she'd just been a normal girl in a normal village that'd been burnt to the ground by a madman. That her soul had been ripped from her body by the wicked curve of a blade thirsty for blood. That she would have been doomed to an eternity of wandering in madness if she had not sought refuge in the closest item at hand.

None of them knew, but it did matter.

Eventually, the constant travel stopped. Cursed item that she was, she was abandoned to the far reaches of some storage room. Desolate. Alone. But perhaps that was better. At least here, she could not condemn another with her ill fate.

And thus had time passed. Decades? Who knew, but the next time she was awakened from her slumber, large calloused hands were examining with reverential awe the fact that the designs stitched into the fabric stretched across wooden spokes had been preserved so meticulously well.

And when his soul unknowingly called for hers and pulled her forth form out from her prison-home, she both rejoiced and dreaded the moment.

She rejoiced at the freedom she had not tasted in nearly half a century, but as she laid eyes on the man who'd granted her such freedom, her soul wept.

For such a beautiful, majestic man as he should not have to weather the storms her presence will soon bring. And there was no doubt in her mind, that no matter how supernaturally his blue eyes seemed to glow, and how oddly warm his hand—a hand she wasn't supposed to feel—was upon her cheek, she would only bring despair into his life.

And for that, even as she leaned into his comforting caress, she mourned.

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Thank you's go to: **Seelenspiel**, elebelly, **mom calling**, shadowneko003, **Synchypn0tic17,** gingerbreadbear, **vLuna**, Vanilla Raindrops, **JingYee**


	4. Illegal: thiefverse 2

A/N: Ah...these are way too much fun. :) Anyhow, as requested by popular demand, here is the sequel to "Stealing." However, it looks like this might be turning out to be more of a mini-series more than anything which I'm going to label my Thief-verse hereon out.

Enjoy!

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**ANOTHER LIFETIME**

#33: Illegal  
Summary: Tifa Lockhart was a good girl...for the most part.  
Word Count: 498  
Originally Posted: October 17, 2009

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Tifa Lockhart considered herself a good girl.

In all her twenty-odd years, she'd never been a big drinker, didn't involve herself too much with the nightclub scene, was generally known as a good student in school, and if she ever did happen to, say, break someone's arm, it was usually for extremely good reason (e.g. groping her, though that only happened once since no one dared to do it ever again). She was what everyone envisioned as the perfect daughter, perfect student, perfect girlfriend, should that lucky man ever arise.

So yes, Tifa Lockhart was a good girl.

So what if she occasionally (frequently) "bent" the law a little? It wasn't as if she was really a _criminal_ or anything. She just often happened to be in the right place at the right time and looking for the right thing to give to the right people.

Right.

So she found it utterly ridiculous and highly exasperating that _he_ was still trailing after her since _he_ obviously wasn't government-issue considering who she'd been stealing—ahem, _borrowing_ from—was the same person _he_ was stealing from. Sure, she'd basically stolen what he'd stolen straight from his hands—she didn't deny herself the mental snicker of victory at the reminder—but that was no reason to have chased her around the city for _three_ days.

And it wasn't as if he was even after the files so much as he was trying to score a date!

She couldn't help the flush that blossomed on her cheeks when she recalled how he'd leaned into her bodily the last time he'd come close enough to nearly catch her. His breath had been heated against her sensitive skin and he had that infuriating grin plastered on his lips that would have been damn attractive if it weren't so _smug_. And the way his eyes watched her with an intensity that was _smoldering_ had her torn between smacking him a good one and melting into a spineless pile of goo at his feet.

Unfortunately for him, Tifa was not just a good girl. She was also a born fighter. And so it really shouldn't have been a surprise when she lowered her eyelids demurely and brought dexterous fingers dancing across his chest that she was simply waiting for him to be distracted _just_ enough for her to ghost her breath across the shell of his ear and murmur a soft "_Stop"_ command.

She pulled back with a victorious smirk when she saw the surprise frozen in his eyes.

"Sorry hon, but I'm a good girl"—world-renowned thief though she may be—"and good girls," she eyed him almost predatorily, "don't date bad boys."

And then she'd slipped under his arms and with a cheeky little wave had gone on her way again.

Oh yes, Tifa Lockhart was a good girl. But even as she dodged through the crowd of morning traffic, she couldn't help but think that maybe just once, she could make an exception.

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THANK YOU!!! to: **mom calling**, Fairheartstrife, **gingerbreadbear**, Vanilla Raindrops, **kitsune13**, K.M. Anderson, **silverdigger, **vLuna


	5. Sweep: fairytaleverse 1

A/N: Yes, I've pulled another disappearing act. Sorry!! Life has been crazy busy though, and I really just didn't have the inspiration to write. But, it seems like it's coming back in bits and pieces though so we'll see. Anyhow, hope you all enjoy this new installment!

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**ANOTHER LIFETIME**

_#16_: Sweep  
_Summary_: Getting swept off her feet wasn't something she'd expected to happen literally.  
_Word Coun_t: 599  
_Originally Posted_: November 21, 2009

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If Tifa was very honest with herself, she would have to admit that she was a true blue hopeless romantic. In nearly every single one of her mental meanderings since childhood, she'd always been gallantly swept off her feet by her knight in shining armor who would then proceed to carry her off into the sunset and they'd then live happily ever after.

She never quite expected that she'd literally be swept off her feet however.

"Ow…" she moaned, reaching a hand back to rub her sore tailbone. That…had been painful.

"Are you alright, Miss?"

She looked up to see a large hand extended towards her and beyond that, a well-muscled forearm bared to the shoulder. She followed the strong line of the shoulder up the column of a sinewy neck and onto a defined jaw line. Eyes traveling ever upwards, her journey was rewarded with pink lips, a high-bridged nose, wide flaring cheekbones, and eyes that verily _glowed_ they were so blue. Bright shocks of spiky blonde hair distracted her only long enough for the thought that they would be heavenly to dig her hands into to flit through her mind before those eyes stole her unadulterated attention back again.

_Ah…That would be my insides melting_, her inner romantic sighed blissfully as she stared unabashedly at who could _only_ be Prince Charming.

"Miss?"

She blinked rapidly when those gorgeous eyes suddenly came closer. "Huh?"

Lips that looked like they were too often frowning twitched into the making of a small smile and Tifa was completely lost. It simply wasn't fair that one man could have that much attractiveness about them!

Grasping desperately onto the rapidly fading tendrils of intelligence, she recovered enough coherence to realize that he'd been holding out his hand to help pull her up. She patted herself mentally on the back when she saw that the hand she reached out to grasp his wasn't shaking. She was also pleased to find that the stories weren't lying when they talked about the dizzying sparks of electricity that would spark between the Hero and his Princess when they touched (though admittedly she was princess over nothing except maybe her cramped two-bedroom apartment and even that was a shared possession with her little brother).

She marveled at how effortlessly he pulled her up from the floor and wondered for moment if he wasn't holding her a little too close. But, he was the perfect gentleman and his hands stayed respectfully away from any intimate areas on her body, which made him even more perfect in her eyes.

He just _had_ to be the one.

He handed her the books that had fallen from her grasp and she accepted them with a sheepish smile. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

She could have sworn that he was about to ask her something else (maybe a name or a number or a coffee date? Oh how a girl can dream…) when a beautiful brunette with sparkling green eyes came up smoothly to thread her arm through his.

"Come on, we're going to be late!" she declared while pulling at him. Seeing Tifa, she flashed her an apologetic but wary smile.

Before he could say anything (if he was going to say anything), the newcomer had dragged him off.

Tifa stared after them for a while longer before remembering why she was in such a hurry in the first place. Books. Class. Late. Damn it.

She sighed, casting another glance in the direction the two had gone. Go figure Mr. Perfect just had to be someone else's Prince Charming. So much for fairytale endings.

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A/N: Don't worry, I already have a part 2 to this that's halfway written that will answer some questions. And I apologize for making Tifa sound so lovesick. I'm personally not a believer in love at first sight, but I was trying to keep in line with the whole fairytale-esque theme.

Much appreciation goes to: **mom calling**, Synchypn0tic17, **gingerbreadbear**, vLuna, **Vanilla Raindrops**, Valentine'sNinja, **Iskra revoir**, flipped


	6. Monitoring: fairytaleverse 2

A/N: Now that I've successfully (hopefully) misled you all, here is part two to my fairytale!verse. And yes, once again, I failed at my 500 word limit. This is my first time writing in Aerith's perspective and I must admit, it was entertaining to do. Anyhow, hope you all enjoy!

Oh, and just to be safe, the words in the summary are borrowed from **FIDDLER ON THE ROOF.** Don't sue me for using their lyrics. (Go watch it if you haven't by the way.)

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**ANOTHER LIFETIME**

_#23_: Monitoring  
_Summary_: Matchmaker matchmaker, make me a match, find me a find, catch me a catch!  
_Word Count_: 1,170  
_Original Posted_: November 23, 2009

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Aerith Gainsborough-Fair was nothing if not a hopeless romantic, a fact quickly proven through the whirlwind romance that landed her married to her Prince Charming within three months of their first acquaintance. Her love life had been the stuff of fairytales, and as such, she expected that to be true for everyone else. And oh, how she _strived_ to make it true for everyone else!

This "everyone else" included one particularly difficult young man by the name of Cloud Strife. Oh, Cloud was attractive enough—she was honest enough with herself to admit that much—but the poor boy was under the delusion that he had no interest in forming any relationship of the romantic sort. Of course Aerith knew better and thus had conspired with her all-too willing husband to find a woman worthy to draw out the inner romantic that she was absolutely certain dwelled somewhere within his stubborn heart.

It was rather disappointing that not one of the blind dates she surreptitiously set him up on ever resulted in anything substantial.

So when she spied the lingering looks her reticent brother-in-law cast on the pretty young thing that'd accidentally run into him the other day, her matchmaking tendencies flared up with fervor.

However, she wasn't about to let just _anyone_ sink their pretty claws into her little brother (a title that he generally loathed and thus she delighted especially in). She had to make sure the girl was good enough for him.

It was a simple matter of asking questions here and smiling cutely there (it never ceased to amaze her how far looking sweet and innocent could get her), and she knew the location of her possible sister-in-law to be.

(Perhaps one would think that she was plotting far too advance considering the fact that the prospective bride and groom had yet to even exchange names, but she was far too gone in her matchmaking to think on such details as that.)

So it was that Aerith found herself sitting at a booth in a diner on the corner of Main Street and 10th observing the young waitress with the simple name tag indicating that she was Tifa.

The girl was a bit bustier than Aerith would have taken as Cloud's type (she'd always envisioned him with someone athletic and lean, though by the looks of the well-defined muscles in her thighs that the short skirt of the uniform afforded her, this girl did her fair share of exercise). Then again, Cloud had never really expressed much interest in any girl before, so it was anyone's guess as to what his "type" was.

But as she observed her, Aerith decided that this kind of girl was definitely a good type for Cloud to go for.

She had an effortless smile and a welcoming countenance, and it was easy to see that she wasn't just a pretty face. She easily maneuvered conversations away from flirtatious grounds when dealing with her male customers and always managed to do it without causing anyone offense. She wasn't too outgoing to be obnoxious, nor was she too timid. Fire flashed in her eyes a few times when someone said something too offensive, though she always smoothed it over with a cleverly disguised insult. Furthermore, the older folk were also absolutely taken with her, and Aerith was generally a firm believer in the senior generation's judge of a person's moral fiber.

Her mind set that this was the girl who would set her brother-in-law on the right path to believing in True Love, Aerith flagged down her waitress—a young, bubbly character by the name of Yuffie—and requested that she call over the other girl.

Yuffie raised an eyebrow at her suspiciously and asked, "What for?"

Aerith put on her best innocent eyes and responded, "Oh, I just wanted to see if she was my brother's girlfriend. I only saw her briefly once and that girl there looks an awful lot like her."

If Yuffie looked offended before, now she looked absolutely livid. "What?! Tifa has a boyfriend and she never told me?!"

She immediately stalked over to the other girl who, poor dear, had no idea what was coming.

Aerith cheered in her head. Mission accomplished. So this Tifa girl was also single. That made for far less complications. She took out her cell phone and messaged her accomplice aka husband the go-ahead signal.

She watched as Tifa looked confused when Yuffie poured out a rapid fire of complaints and accusations. She couldn't make out what they were saying, but by the way Yuffie was angrily gesticulating in her own general direction, her little lie had been successfully conveyed.

Satisfied with the direction her plan was going, Aerith returned to her newspaper as if the classified ads were the most intriguing thing.

"Excuse me Miss, but you were asking for me?"

Aerith was grateful to hear that her voice was neither screechy high nor rumbling low, but struck a good balance of gentleness with fullness of lungs. It would have been difficult to have good girl-talk with a girl whose voice she could not stand.

Aerith looked up and almost smiled at the alert way that Tifa held herself. If she wasn't sure of it before, she was positive of it now: she was going to like her future sister-in-law a lot. "Hello Miss Tifa. My name is Aerith." She struck her hand out and Tifa took it after a moment's hesitation. "We've seen each other before, a couple of days ago."

Tifa nodded slowly. "Yes, I remember."

"Sorry about the commotion I made with Miss Yuffie over there earlier. It's just that my brother doesn't get into many relationships—none actually—but I could tell that he was really taken with you, so I just wanted to meet you for myself."

Aerith gave Tifa credit for not completely losing her composure, but the girl took her time in formulating a response. "I—wait, wha—? I mean…Come again?"

"The other day. You were talking with my brother when I so rudely interrupted."

Aerith didn't fight the smile when she saw the understanding dawn on the younger girl's face. "Brother? He was your _brother_?"

The matchmaker nodded and responded as nonchalantly as she could, "Well, brother-in-law actually, and he's not really related to my husband by blood but they might as well be."

"Brother...in-law?" repeated Tifa slowly.

Aerith nodded again. "Yup." The soft chime of the diner door opening drew her attention and she smirked inwardly. Perfect timing. "Speak of the devil."

Tifa followed her gaze and Aerith once again mentally applauded her. A lesser woman probably would have fainted.

Because there stood the object of their conversation dressed in a tight, slightly damp wife-beater and loose track pants, apparently having just come from a workout session. Cloud Strife was already one fine specimen, but nearly no sane woman could resist him in _that_ particular state.

Aerith wondered how long it would be before she'd hear the wedding bells chiming.

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A/N: Honestly, you all should know me well enough to know that I can only resist putting Cloud and Tifa together for so long before I give into their demands. :) I do have a part three coming up that's in Cloud's POV to tie up any loose ends. Stay tuned for that!

Thank you's: **Valentine'sNinja**, vLuna, **FinalFantasyVIIlover-Arielle W, **mom calling _(lol! Touche...one would think I would know better considering how I fell for Cloud at nearly first sight as well...hahah)_**, gingerbreadbear**


	7. Troop: mulanverse1

A/N: Sorry if you were expecting part 3 to my fairytale!verse, but that isn't quite finished yet. This is completely different. It's sort of a twist on the Mulan legend though instead of ancient China, my setting is more Lord the Rings-esque than anything. It seems that all these AU's are begging for me to write continuations to, and this one is no different, but we'll see where my muse takes me. :)

Anyhow, enjoy and leave a thought please!

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**ANOTHER LIFETIME**

_#7_: Troop  
_Summary_: She will fight for him, even if he doesn't want her to.  
_Word Count_: 897  
_Originally posted_: December 7, 2009

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It was the first time she'd ever lied to him, and as she swung her sword around to land heavily across the shoulders of yet another enemy troop, she wondered if it'd turn out to be the only lie she'd ever tell him.

The armor, though made of a light but durable metal called mythril, weighed heavily upon her shoulders and the air that cycled through her helmet was unbearably stifling. Her grip on her sword was slippery from the blood she had drawn and her vision blurred constantly with drops of sweat sliding into her eyes.

It'd been insane—and probably plain foolish—what she'd done. Even now, she wondered if she'd be executed for it if they ever found out.

...

_She held back the tears as she steeled her resolve. With one quick motion, the beautiful curtain of hair that she'd taken so much pride in lay pooled around her feet. Her head felt light, too light now. The familiar weight of her hair was quickly replaced by cold unfeeling metal as she latched on the helmet. _This_ would be her new pride._

_..._

She grunted when someone blindsided her andknocked her to the ground. She used the momentum to roll back into a crouch and brought up her sword instinctually to block the incoming blow. The muscles in her calves screamed at her but she ignored it as best as she could and demanded that they spring her forward to overwhelm her enemy. Though protesting, her muscles heeded her call and she knew that she would survive at least one more fight. But how many more could she really take?

No, she couldn't think like that. Don't think about what might happen. Take one battle at a time.

If she had the extra energy to spare, she would have laughed at the irony of how this all began in a battlefield much different than this.

...

"_Cloud…" Her breathy sigh was all she could manage after being loved so thoroughly and her mind was foggy in a state of blissful contentment. If only this single moment could extend into forever… However, "if only's" rarely happen as we would wish them to._

"_The Jenovians have taken Junon."_

_The rumbling of his voice cast vibrations from his bare chest to tickle the cheek she had pressed against him. She was tempted to giggle at the sensation but his words struck dread in her heart. Junon was their kingdom's strongest port city. If they have taken it, then that means Midgar will soon be under fire. Unless they could first recapture the port. _

_The blood drained from her face as she pushed herself up to stare into his cobalt eyes. "You're leaving."_

"_I have to," he murmured as soothingly as he could, one of his hands raised to rub lethargic strokes along the smooth skin of her back._

"_You promised you wouldn't. Not for another month. The _king_ promised he would not send you for another month."_

"_He did not send me. I volunteered."_

"_Cloud!"_

"_Tifa, please understand. I am Midgar's General. I _cannot_ allow the people of my country to suffer through another attack by such brutes as the Jenovians. I must fight."_

"_But…you've only just returned _yesterday_. Perhaps I am being selfish, but is it truly wrong for a wife to desire that her husband stay home safe with her?"_

_He kissed her brutally then and she sobbed despite herself because she knew that nothing would stop him for fighting for his country. So she kissed back just as hard, fighting with him for dominance, struggling to prove to him the depth of her love for him._

"_Let me go with you," she whispered against his lips._

_He stopped abruptly. "No."_

"_Cloud, you know as well as I do that I can fend for myself."_

"_I do know, but I will not allow the darkness of war to taint you."_

"_What would you have me do then? Wilt away with worry while you ride off to war? I cannot. I cannot stand having to wait for news of you _here _when I could just as easily be _there _with you."_

"_Please Tifa. You worry about me and my safety alone, but I have the safety of a nation in addition of you to think about. I cannot fight without reserve if I know you are in danger. I cannot."_

"_Cloud…"_

"_Promise me. Promise me you'll wait for me. Promise me that no matter what news may come, you will _not_ come after me."_

_Tears welled up in her eyes and although it went against everything her heart was screaming at her to refuse and if that didn't work, to lose herself in him until he relented, she nodded. "I promise."_

_..._

Oh what a beautiful lie to die for!

She screamed with pain when the sword impaled her, a thin blade that likely measured six feet long. "Sephiroth…"

The great Jenovian General looked down at her and tilted his head, almost as if surprised by what he saw. But then he narrowed his eyes and, without the slightest hint of mercy, yanked out his blade with utter ease, almost as if he had just pulled it from a cotton doll rather than a human being of flesh and bone.

As her world fell black, her last thought was that she was a terrible promise-keeper.

* * *

Thank you: **kitsune13**, Yoru Shichiyou, **mom calling**, vLuna, **Valentine'sNinja**, babyviolin, **gingerbreadbear**


	8. Movie: fairytaleverse 3

A/N: Here's part 3 to my fairytale!verse. Didn't come out exactly how I envisioned, but meh. It works. And I'm seriously thinking of scrapping the 500 word limitation. I think I've failed at that more often than I've met it. Hahah...sad.

Anyhow, enjoy!

* * *

**ANOTHER LIFETIME**

_#12_: Movie  
_Summary_: He thought that movies were nothing but overly saccharine-filled fairy tales that had no basis to them in real life.  
_Word Count_: 1,181  
_Originally Posted_: December 10, 2009

* * *

Cloud did not believe in fairytales. In fact, he was probably the antithesis of Prince Charming. Nor did he believe in such a foolish notion as love at first sight, a naïve concept that was perpetuated by the overly saccharine-filled romances that plagued the film industry.

He believed that True Love, if it existed at all, was not all sunshine and flowers, but pain and sweat and incredibly hard work.

In short, he thought it too much of a hassle to trouble himself with.

Unfortunately for him, he also happened to be best friends with two of the biggest romantics (in every sense of the word) in the world. He was further exasperated by the fact that they seemed to think that the best way to convert him to their ranks was by encouraging him to enter into a romantic relationship by means of innumerable blind dates.

While he generally trusted their acumen in judging strength of character, for some reason, the dates they set him up with ranged from bad to outright disturbing.

(He will forever be traumatized by the girl who thought the most beautiful sound in the world was her own voice talking. In reality, he preferred the sound of fingernails on chalkboards to her voice.)

He should have known something was up when Zack suddenly called him up with a sudden desire to try out the diner on Main Street and 10th for lunch instead of their usual roast beef dip at the deli next to their business building. Zack would never, ever willingly try something new when it was roast beef dip day.

So it didn't really surprise him all that much when he walked into the diner to see that Aerith was sitting down with a dark-haired girl, seemingly in deep conversation. What _did _surprise him, however, was the set of intoxicating, wine-brown eyes that stared back at him when she looked up.

As much as he denied the reality of romance, he couldn't say with any degree of honesty that he was not intrigued by the girl he'd run into—or rather, that'd run into him—the other day. Indeed, every morning he'd walk by that intersection—never mind the fact that the detour added an extra twenty minutes to his walk—hoping that maybe he'd see her again.

So it really was quite unexpected that she'd be sitting there now, and with his sister-in-law too. Though, by the smug smirk that currently graced Aerith's face, he probably shouldn't have been surprised she found her first.

He eyed with great curiosity the graceful movement of her slender neck when she swallowed nervously before the uneasy flick of her tongue across full lips caught his attention. A curtain of soft brown hair fell gently over her shoulders and down her back and he found himself longing to trace the soft lines of her body with his hands.

"Oh Cloud! Great timing. We were just talking about you!" chirped Aerith cheerfully. Cloud sent her a narrow glare that said he was onto her which she simply returned with a cheeky smirk. She pulled the now heavily blushing girl up out of the booth with her and not so gently pushed her in front of him. "This is Tifa. You remember her, don't you Cloud?"

Oh yes, he remembered her. Despite everything he told himself about fairytales being just that—fairytales, and romance being a waste of time, the past few days had been spent constantly with thoughts of her running through his mind. "Yes."

The girl, Tifa, lifted shy eyes to him and smiled sheepishly. He found himself as mesmerized by it as he had been the first time he saw it. "Hi... I'm sorry about running into you the other day."

He grunted, trying to shake himself out of whatever stupor it was that bound him to her smile. "It's okay."

Not quite knowing what else to say, they stared at each other for a while before the booming voice of Cloud's adopted brother cut through the tension. "So who's ready for lunch?"

Aerith grinned. "Well, there's my cue to go."

Cloud turned his attention to her almost in a panic. "Go? Go where?"

"To lunch, silly. Zack and I have a lunch date at the nice Italian restaurant down the street. I've been dying to try it."

"What about me?"

Aerith shot him a look that clearly said he was an idiot for asking. "You have lunch here and keep Tifa company of course."

"B-but…"

"No buts. Now," Aerith looped her arm around Zack who shot him a wink and a thumb's up. Can they be anymore obvious? "We're going to be late for our reservation."

Turning his back to Tifa so that she couldn't hear him, Cloud practically growled, "What the hell do you think you're doing Aerith?"

She blinked at him in her I'm-evil-but-you-would-never-know-it-by-my-innocent-looks expression. "Whatever do you mean?"

He fought to keep his movements to a minimum. "Don't tell me this is a coincidence."

"What's the problem? You are obviously interested and by that pretty flush of color on Tifa's cheeks right now, I can confidently say that she is too."

"But I—"

"Stop with the 'buts.' You've been wanting to meet her again, haven't you? I'm just doing you a favor." Aerith grinned unrepentantly. "Admit it, you owe me."

"Whatever." Cloud leveled her with a blank stare and she gave him a look in return that said "_I'm right and you know it_."

"Now, go enjoy your lunch and please try to make _some _attempt at conversation. You'll never catch a girl like that if you don't show at least some form of intelligence underneath all that spiky hair."

With that, Aerith and Zack practically fled out of the diner.

With a nervous gulp, Cloud turned back around to find Tifa quietly observing him. The blush had mostly faded and she looked much more at ease than she had only a moment ago.

"Um…sorry about that…my sister-in-law tends to get a little…excited easily."

Tifa flashed him a reassuring smile and he felt his unease flood out of him suddenly. "She's…got a little matchmaking blood in her, doesn't she?"

The corners of his lips turned up. "Don't even get me started on some of the blind dates she and Zack have set me up on."

"That bad?"

"Worse."

She laughed and he felt the last vestiges of tension leak away. On impulse, he grabbed her hand and led her back to the booth she and Aerith previously occupied. He thought that the light blush that bloomed on her cheeks was quite becoming.

"Poor you. And now you're stuck with little ole' me for lunch," she teased.

"Hm. I can't say I have anything to complain about this time."

Her eyes widened considerably, and he tried to hold himself still as she studied him. He breathed a sigh of relief when she relaxed and her smile returned. "I'm glad."

Okay, so maybe the movies did get _some_ things right.

* * *

Many thanks to: **Valentine'sNinja**, Vanilla Raindrops, **Synchypn0tic17**, vLuna, **gingerbreadbear**, et cetera et cetera, **kerapal bubbles**


	9. Raise

A/N: Teehee...I had way too much fun writing this one. I'm a big fan of Texas Hold'em (which is what I envision them playing) and I will even admit to watching the world poker tournaments on ESPN sometimes. Ahaha...too bad I'm not very good at it. Anyhow, this is probably the last update I'll put up for anything until January comes around so until then, I hope you all have an awesome time with family and friends this Christmas season! Enjoy!

* * *

**ANOTHER LIFETIME**

_#22_: raise  
_Summary_: The stakes have never been so high.  
_Word Count_: 760  
_Originally Posted_: December 22, 2009

* * *

If there was any one thing that Tifa Lockhart really hated about Cloud Strife, it was that he had an impenetrable poker face. Literally. Which was highly problematic considering the fact that she was currently the last one seated with him at the finalists' table in the biggest poker tournament on this side of Gaia.

She still had trouble believing that she was going head to head with who was arguably the best poker player in the world right now. Anyone who knew anything about professional poker knew the name Cloud Strife—otherwise known as The Soldier for his stoic mannerisms at the table—and trembled. No one could ever tell what he was thinking and his strategies changed so often and so seamlessly that it proved nigh impossible to predict his next move.

He was, in essence, a god of gambling.

Enter one Tifa Lockhart, part time bartender, full-time student and sometimes poker player. In fact, she doubted she could even be considered a "sometimes" player. She was more a "hey it's a blue moon, let's play!" kind of player. She'd never heard of Cloud Strife before nor had she ever played for more than ten dollars at stake before.

However, one meddling best friend entering her name into the tournament for kicks and fourteen brain-numbing hours of poker later, Tifa found herself seated across from the infamous Cloud Strife himself.

And ooooh was he making her nervous. Not just because he was obviously superior in his poker playing abilities, but because, damn it, it wasn't fair how distractingly attractive he was! It didn't help matters that she had flirted with him a little at the bar during one of the breaks before she found out who he was. After all, she was still feeling a little light-headed about the fact that she'd advanced to a quarter-finalists' table and she didn't think she'd ever see him again and he'd certainly been attractive enough—a major understatement she was beginning to realize—to let loose a little bit and do something she'd never do normally.

She'd kissed him (or maybe he'd kissed her; she couldn't really tell). It hadn't been a soft peck on the lips either. Oh no, it was the full on lip-bruising, tongue-fighting, air-depriving kind of kiss that left them with eyes bright and hair mussed.

So it proved to be rather embarrassing sitting across from him now.

"I'll call your fifty thousand and raise you another hundred," he said calmly in that low timbre that made her insides melt.

She tried to keep her displeasure from showing, but Tifa had always been an expressive girl—which made her wonder how she'd gotten so far in a _poker _tournament of all things—and it was difficult to keep her sharp exhale muffled. Raising her bid another hundred thousand would leave her with barely thirty thousand. That would mean she'd only have enough for another five games or so. She glared at the top of her cards, hands itching to double check her cards.

If she didn't go for it now, she probably wouldn't have another hand like this in the few games she had left. Might as well go out with a bang then. Steeling her resolve, she pushed out the rest of her meager chips into the pot. "I'm all in."

When he smirked she knew she was done. It didn't matter if she won or lost here because she's already lost much more.

"Call."

The world stopped spinning when she flipped open her cards and waited in mute suspense for her opponent to do the same. She breathed a deep sigh of relief when her king high flush barely trumped his queen high flush.

Cloud made a humming noise in the back of his throat. Lifting those electric blue eyes to meet hers dead on, he said, "Beaten even with the queen of hearts. I guess this means we play a little longer."

Though his bland tone didn't _seem_ any different than the one he always used, she couldn't help but think there was something _teasing_ about it. She frowned, studying him (and that infuriatingly knowing smirk) before the realization set in.

That bastard. He knew she had the king and that she would beat him. He was purposefully dragging the game on longer.

She narrowed her eyes at him and he dragged his fingers along his bottom lip in response. To everyone else, it looked like he was just rubbing chapped lips, but she flushed all the way to the roots of her hair.

Damn damn damn.

"_I'm all in,"_ she'd said. It was ironic how true that was proving to be.

* * *

Many thanks to: **mom calling**, shadowneko003, **kerapal bubbles**, JingYee, **vLuna**, Vanilla Raindrops, **silverdigger**, AmberLeaves


	10. Marker

**ANOTHER LIFETIME**

_#3_: Marker  
_Summary_: All is fair in love and...marker tag?  
_Word Count_: 1353  
_Originally Posted_: February 7, 2010

* * *

It was the perfect night for an ambush.

The sky was slightly overcast which threw a dark curtain over the looming buildings to either side of her. The area was empty considering most of the residents around here were busy studying for midterms.

Tugging the hood of her black sweatshirt further down over her face, she waited for her target to show up. Vincent Valentine was one hell of a hard man to track down, but she had bided her time patiently until she knew his schedule by heart.

So here she was, hidden neatly in the shadows behind his dormitory building, waiting for the perfect time to jump out and "kill" him.

A firm hand on her shoulder startled her and she whipped around to find familiar blue eyes watching her with some amusement.

"Cloud!" she exclaimed, tone irritated even though she couldn't be one hundred percent certain whether the sudden increase in her pulse was from adrenaline or his close proximity.

Without thinking, she yanked him into her hiding spot. However, Cloud hadn't expected the sudden pull and stumbled into her. She grunted when the collision of her back with the wall knocked the breath out of her.

With worried eyes, Cloud brought a hand up to the back of her head to make sure she hadn't hit it. "Are you oka—?" he began, but Tifa quickly cut him off with her hand.

"Shh!" Her other hand reaching around him to keep her balance, she peeked around the corner only to see that Vincent was passing the spot of her ambush, not that it would have mattered anyway because he was walking in company with Yuffie, the perky girl who's started this game of marker tag in the first place. Rules stated that she couldn't mark him when other players were around to see it.

Damn. Of all the times he'd picked to start tolerating Yuffie, it just had to be now, didn't it?

Sighing, she leaned back against the wall, removing her hand from Cloud's face, and smiled up at him sheepishly. "Sorry about that. I guess I got a little too caught up in the game."

His responding grunt served two purposes. First, it was his way of saying, "It's okay." Second, it alerted her to the fact that she had pulled Cloud flush against her front while her back pressed firmly to the building. He was close. Really _really_ close. Oh boy.

The two of them had basically grown up together and, while she had always cared for him greatly, their entrance into college years found her feelings for him growing from childhood buddy to close friend to secret crush. Unfortunately, she had no idea where his affections lie. Aerith reassured Tifa that he was madly in love with her, but then again, Aerith was also a hopeless romantic.

Blushing prettily, she slipped into her default nervous mode: rambling. "You know how I am when it comes to competitive things. Too bad you decided not to play. I bet you would have been amazing, what with how quiet you can sneak up on people. By the way, did you see Vincent with Yuffie at first? Is it just me or does it seem like they've been spending an awful lot of time together lately? Aerith insists that Vincent has a thing for Yuffie, but personally I don't know if I quite see it. Besides—"

"Tifa, stop it," he commanded, though the corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement. "It's just me."

_I know it's _just you_. That's the problem!_ she protested mentally.

Letting out a deep sigh, she quirked a half-smile at him. "Sorry."

He tilted his head slightly to the side which gave him the air of an inquisitive little boy. "Why do you get nervous around me?"

She immediately objected. "I don't get nervous!"

"Tifa…" he rumbled out in that tone that set her stomach aflutter. He was always so darn good at catching her lies.

Glancing away stubbornly, she replied lamely, "I don't know."

"Are you sure you don't know, or do you just not want to tell me?"

She glared hard at a stray leaf on the floor pretending it was him, but she did not dare look at him directly.

"Tifa."

She glared harder.

"Look at me," he prodded.

She refused.

If she _had_ looked up, she would have seen the smirk playing on his lips. If she had looked up, she would have seen a impish light illuminating his already-bright eyes. If she had looked up, she wouldn't have been so surprised when his lips suddenly came down on hers with barely-restrained fervor.

"Mmf!"

Eyes wide, she glared—though not very convincingly, considering the fact that the majority of her was melting from his ministrations—at Cloud's dancing eyes. But then he didn't seem like he was in any hurry to relinquish her from his (pleasurable) assault, so she finally let herself relax into his embrace, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

A soft sigh escaped her when one of his hands strayed beneath the heavy fabric of her sweatshirt to feather light patterns against the sensitive skin of her stomach. Hands sliding up and around his shoulders, she pulled him ever closer, inhaling the wonderful scent of him, loving the feel of his muscles beneath her fingertips.

But she was snapped out of that beautiful feeling when she felt something hard poking at her stomach. Startled, she pulled back abruptly to find that it was a cold, wet something poking at her stomach.

She pushed him away, eyes flashing dangerously with anger as she lifted the hem of her sweatshirt and t-shirt to expose her stomach. The smooth, milky skin was marred by two dots and a curve that made up a distorted smiley face.

"Cloud!"

He smirked as he held up a black sharpie. "Sorry Teef, but it looks like you're dead."

"Cloud…" she growled deep in her throat. "I thought you said you weren't playing!"

He shrugged. "I wasn't going to, but then Yuffie snuck my name into the pool anyway, and when I saw that I'd drawn your name…I couldn't resist."

Her glare gained an extra edge as she tried to hide the sudden ache in her heart. "So that's all _that_ was at first? Distracting me so you could make a fool out of me?"

His smile fell immediately and he closed the distance between them again, hands coming up to grip her shoulder. "Of course not! I just…I…" One hand came up to rub the back of his neck and he forcefully chuckled. "I guess you weren't the only one who was nervous."

She stared into his earnest gaze and as much as she wanted to stay angry with him, she could never deny him anything when he looked at her like that. Sighing, she dropped her forehead against his chest. "We're just a pair of idiots, aren't we Cloud?"

He hummed noncommittally as his arms circled around her waist again. "Maybe, but you're my idiot."

A snort and a muffled "idiot" was her response. She didn't make to move out of his arms though.

He rested his chin on top of her head, eyes aglow with mischief. "So now that you're technically dead, do you want to stake out Vincent with me again tomorrow night?"

* * *

A/N: Ahh...I love sneaky!Cloud. Btw, for those of you who don't know what marker tag (otherwise known as "Assassin") is, it's a game you play with a large group of people. Everybody puts their name into a pool and each person draws a random name from that pool. The goal is to mark the person whose name you drew without getting marked yourself by whoever drew your name. Once you successfully mark ("kill") your target, your next target is the name the person you killed drew. So on and so forth until there's only one person left unmarked. For example, in this fic, Tifa got Vincent and Cloud got Tifa. Because Cloud "killed" Tifa, his next target is Tifa's target (i.e. Vincent). It's a fun game that makes for much sneakiness, especially when you add in all the extra rules like safety zones and stuff like that. :)

Anyhow, thanks for reviewing: **mom calling**, silverdigger, **kerapal bubbles**, Toriga-Okami, **vLuna**, kitsune13, **JingYee**, Vanilla Raindrops, **Varanus**


	11. Western

A/N: Yes, I live! I've been seriously drained of inspiration lately. I'm also trying to graduate. A noble endeavor, I know. :) Life will consist mostly of insanity for the next two months, but alas, tis life.

Anyhow, this one needs a little explanation. The way I see it, Wutai is the FFVII equivalent of Japan/East Asia. Therefore, what is "Eastern" (used as an adjective describing a certain cultural aesthetic i.e. Asian) in the real world would be called "Western" in the FFVII world. If that doesn't make sense, just know that "Western" is meant to have Asian (as we know it) connotations in the FFVII world. The end.

* * *

**ANOTHER LIFETIME**

_#36_: Western  
_Summary_: There was very little in the world that could convince Cloud that wearing a dress was a good idea.  
_Word Count_: 600  
_Originally Posted_: April 17, 2010

* * *

"Remind me again, why am I stuffed into this—what the hell is this called again?" Cloud Strife scowled as he held up the long flowing fabric that she called his sleeves for inspection.

Aerith rolled her eyes. "This," she explained with exaggerated slowness, "is called a kimono. It's a form of traditional Wutain garb, which I'm, as you put it so delicately, 'stuffing you in' because we're at a company social and the theme just so happens to be 'Going Western.' Clear enough?"

Cloud shot her a warning glare. "Do you want to also explain why I'm even at this company social when I clearly told you no?"

"Because you happen to be the vice president of Mako United. That and you know better than to cross me, of course," she replied in that overly-saccharine tone that meant anyone who did not conform to her will would be in trouble—and lots of it.

"Why are you my step-sister?" he groaned.

"Because—despite how disturbing it may be for us to think about it—your mother and my father are crazy in love and have been for the past ten years. Now, will you stop griping and smile? We're supposed to be representing the company."

With a barely concealed sigh, Cloud complied even as he wondered how it was possible that everyone thought Aerith was such an angel. He got along very well with his step-sister, but he knew better than to trust those innocent smiles. Too bad nobody would believe him, not even his best friend Zack, who'd been thoroughly sucked in by her façade.

And as loathe as he was to admit it, he had never been able to deny her either. Although she was technically a year older than him, they'd grown up with him fulfilling the overly-protective older brother role with gusto. She'd been constantly angry with him for scaring away any potential boyfriends all through high school and much of college, but she eventually conceded that it was indeed an amazing feeling to have her first boyfriend be her only boyfriend now that she and Zack were engaged.

Still, as much as he doted on her, he couldn't help but feel like he was wearing a dress.

But then he saw _her_ and everything—dress/kimono thing be damned—was worth it.

She was amazing, slim body wrapped alluringly in the traditional silk trappings of ancient Wutain aristocracy. Her hair was done up in a loose bun, and the teardrop earrings dangling playfully by an elegant neck betrayed her into modernity. She was an enchanting fusion of the old and new and it made his heart beat erratically to see her gentle smile. Everything else faded away when he locked gazes with warm coffee eyes.

"Tifa! Over here," called out Aerith, not bothering to hide the mischievous twinkle in her eye, which—under normal circumstances—elicited in Cloud a strange urge to duck.

With a small, shy smile, Tifa approached them and though she was responding to Aerith's call, her eyes never once left Cloud's.

Under her breath, Aerith teased, "I told you it'd be a good idea to come, didn't I?"

Cloud resisted the urge to kick her, but when he gently pressed his lips against the soft skin of the back of Tifa's hand in greeting, he had to admit to himself that his little-older sister was right.

* * *

Many thanks: **Seelenspiel,** JingYee, **et cetera et cetera, **kerapal bubbles, **vLuna**, mom calling, **kitsune13**, Vanilla Raindrops, **Tiny Cherie**, AmberLeaves, **Houdeanie Beanie**


	12. Outcry: mulanverse2

A/N: Sequel to "Troop." I had a hard time making Zack's speech sound authentic and I failed half the time. I console myself with the belief that Zack is not of aristocratic upbringing in this fic...

Drop a review if you will! Thanks!

* * *

**ANOTHER LIFETIME**

_#8_: Outcry  
_Summary_: If it came down to his loyalty to the crown or to his wife, he knew unequivocally which he would choose.  
_Word Coun_t: 619  
_Originally Posted_: May 3, 2010

* * *

General Cloud Strife of the kingdom of Midgar had been ill at ease for the past several days although he could not pinpoint what it was that unsettled him so. It could not have been the war with the Jenovians for Midgar's finest has been successful in pushing back the invaders little by little, and soon Junon will be theirs once more. Their losses have been surprisingly light while the Jenovians have suffered a great blow to their morale.

Yet…despite all that, Cloud could not rid himself of the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

"Cloud!"

He turned to see his second-in-command, Lieutenant General Zack Fair, moving quickly towards him with urgency clearly written in his eyes. Cloud's eyes narrowed. Zack Fair was a man who rarely allowed such panic to rise in his expression. To have him look thus flustered…

"What is it?"

"Tifa is here."

"What? What is she doing here?" demanded Cloud. The pit in his stomach grew and he suddenly understood why he was beset with this overwhelming feeling of dread.

Zack put a heavy hand on his shoulder, though he couldn't be sure whether it was for comfort or restraint. "She's injured. Badly. Aerith is with her now, but there is trouble afoot."

Cloud's jaw clenched tightly. "Take me to her."

"Unfortunately, that is not possible."

"You of all people know better than to try to keep me away from her."

"Believe me, if it were up to me, I would be the last person standing in your way and the first behind you," Zack replied seriously. "As it is however, it is the king _himself_ who has detained her."

"What do you mean?"

Zack sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. "They're crying for her blood out there Cloud. Ever since she was discovered in the ranks of our military, Midgar's forces have been ailing. They say it's her fault."

Cloud narrowed his eyes. "Damn superstitious fools."

"Indeed, but can you truly blame them? Never mind the fact that women are forbidden to join the royal army, there has been a rampant scare of witchcraft in recent days."

"So His Majesty deemed it wise to detain _my _wife?"

"In an effort to contain mass hysteria…yes."

An angry growl found clawed its way out of Cloud's throat. "I understand if you refuse to bring me to my wife for fear of disobeying the king's orders, but do not try to stop me."

A corner of Zack's mouth kicked up and his previous alarm completely dissipated. "Honestly, Cloud. You ought to know better than to think that I would follow the rules as strictly as all that. I came to tell you that I know of a secret passage to the healing bay that can get us past the guards."

Cloud raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "How is it that you know of this secret passage and I do not?"

Zack grinned fully. "How else does your Excellency think that I so conveniently disappear whenever someone other than Aerith enters the healer's quarters?

Under normal circumstances, Cloud would have let a small chuckle escape. As it was, he was too focused on getting to his injured wife and cutting down anybody who dared stand in his way, he cared not whether it be king or pauper. He only knew that Tifa was hurt and whoever hurt her will have hell to pay.

* * *

A/N: There will probably be a third (at least) installment forthcoming, though I can't say for sure when.

Thank you: **mom calling**, Vanilla Raindrops, **demonegg**, kerapal bubbles, **vLuna**, et cetera et cetera, **xoxo**


	13. Desperate: mulanverse3

A/N: I should not be here. At all. I just finished a final about an hour ago, I have a paper due in four hours, I have another final in six hours and another paper due tomorrow. Why am I here? Eesh...in other news, this IS the last quarter (if I pass all my classes that is) of my college career so it's rather bittersweet, but I'm thinking it's more sweet than bitter right now. Of course, when I finish my last paper, then it'll be really sweet but alas...I still have to survive today and tomorrow.

Anyhow, this is the sequel to "Troop" and "Outcry." It's a bit different, but I personally like it so I hope you do too!

* * *

**ANOTHER LIFETIME**

_#27_: Desperate  
_Summary_: She needed him more than she knew possible.  
_Word Count:_ 599  
_Originally posted_: June 9, 2010

* * *

Green slits of cold cat eyes mocked her from the dark. The face that they stared out at her from was beautiful—breathtakingly so—but utterly fatal. Sharp angles screamed sinister and she felt overcome by shivers caused not by cold, but by pure malice directed at her with curved lips.

She gasped in shock when the icy burn of metal slid smoothly across her skin and dug into tender flesh. Shouldn't it hurt more? She only felt the whisper of ice in her veins. The pain was distant, a strangely separate entity that she knew existed but could not feel.

The eyes came closer and she panicked. Fear—sudden and inexplicable, rendering her immobile—took hold and strangled the breath from her lungs. All she knew was twin spires of wickedness, taunting her, haunting her... The burning erupted within and threatened to obliterate her from the inside out. Flames licked at her bones, darkness clawing at her heart, clenching and wrenching it tight within sharp talons and piercing pain…

She screamed as the fire descended with unabashed fury, promises of agony dancing in those mocking green eyes.

Go away go away go away!

She whimpered but could hear nothing outside the roar of black.

She cried and she might have called a name—his name—but she couldn't be sure. Couldn't be sure if he was real because in the midst of this clawing evil, she couldn't believe that there could exist anything as good as he.

But he must be real because the yawning black retreated ever so slightly, lightening just a shade so that it was no longer the stark nothingness of before, but rather a dark charcoaled grey that pulsed around her and gave her…hope?

Green eyes narrowed and, as if against their will, retreated just a pace.

A voice called for her.

Her heart leapt in response. She knew that voice. She knew the wave of comfort that washed over her could only be a result of _him_.

Heartened, she found the courage, the resolve to find a way to his side. Because that is where she belonged. So she had to fight, fight the terrors still hanging on the edges of her consciousness, waiting for the moment for her will to stumble to fall upon her and tear her apart.

But she held steady. She could feel his presence and that was enough to send away any demon.

Her lids slowly fluttered open and she drowned in beautiful blue eyes that were _his_ and she fell in love all over again.

"Cloud…I knew you'd come."

Her world tilted momentarily when he suddenly gathered her into his arms and pulled her tight against him. Mildly, she registered that Aerith must have spent quite the energy healing her wounds because she felt not a single twinge of pain.

"Fool of a woman!" he rasped out, voice tortured but his breath oh so hot against her ear.

She shuddered from the sensation and cuddled closer to her life. "I know, but you are here now, and I cannot regret that I did what I did."

He grasped her even closer to his all-encompassing warmth and she knew he understood. Just as she could not live without him, he could not survive without her. Their desperation could only be sated by the other.

* * *

Much gratitude to: **Pokexpress**, mom calling, **vLuna**, AmberLeaves, **kerapal bubbles**, Houdeanie Beanie, **Vanilla Raindrops**,


	14. Painting: dukeverse

A/N: Yay! Finally got another one. My muse has definitely not been cooperating lately. Sadness.

Anyhow, here is another one inspired by an old Chinese "ghost" story found in the classic collection _Liao Zhai Zhi Yi_ (aka _Strange Tales of Liao Zhai)_. I go in a way different direction but if anybody is interested in where I got the idea from, that's where. They're interesting reads if you're into Chinese supernatural stories.

In any case, hope you all enjoy this! I personally really like this one.

* * *

**ANOTHER LIFETIME**

_#18_: Painting  
_Summary_: The line between reality and fantasy is never as well-drawn as we believe it to be.  
_Word Count:_ 972  
_Originally posted_: August 21, 2010

* * *

Something had attracted her to the portrait from the start.

It was a beautiful painting, and even though it was probably close to three hundred years old, the colors were still as bright and vibrant as ever. But it was not the superior technique that drew her artist's admiration. No, what truly caught her attention were the eyes.

Eyes filled with the brightest blue she'd ever beheld and even as she sifted through her mental color palette, she knew that it would be impossible to recreate such a unique shade of summer sky and clear ocean reef all rolled into one. The eyes were set in a face of impossible masculine beauty, striking lines that marked a straight nose, a stubborn set of a jaw, eyebrows that could only be fashioned by the most meticulous sculptor, and lips pressed into a thin line, as if he were angry…or perhaps unbearably sad. The perfection of his image extended to the wondrously built form of his body, even encased as it was in the layers his suit as was the fashion then. Still she could easily make out the broad length of his shoulders and chest tapering to narrow hips and strong thighs.

It made her smile unconsciously when she noted that everything about the subject matter screamed noble…save for that wild stand of unrepentant blonde hair rising in all directions from his head. She liked to think that perhaps he might have been burdened with heavy responsibilities from birth, but he knew that life was more than duty.

She did not know how wistful her sigh was as she gazed into the image of a man who she could have loved. Startled, she shook her head at her thoughts.

Her friends told her that she was too obsessed with her art; maybe they were right after all. Falling in love with a portrait? Good heavens, maybe she really should go out to the club tonight.

"_Tifa…"_

She spun around sharply at the faint whisper of her name but the few others in the gallery were absorbed with their own musings. Heart beating with almost painful speed, she caught her breath and surveyed the room once more. She had probably imagined it. The voice had been so soft, but her heart ached terribly for some reason and she could not rid herself of the touch of that melancholic tenor against her ears.

The back of her neck prickled with awareness, as if someone was watching her intently, but she knew even as she turned back to the portrait that the only person staring at her possessed eyes of impossible blue allure. She looked back into those eyes and lost herself in his world.

Perhaps he had been a nobleman, a duke even. He certainly had the bearing. He would have set the world afire with those pensive lips and expressive brows. She wished she could have met him. His voice would have been a seductive melody, soothing her fears even as she melted into his arms. His lips would have feathered against her hair and her temples, her cheeks and nose before settling first gently, then with greater fervor against her willing lips. His hands, those elegant masterpieces, would have gripped her firmly around the waist, pulling her tighter against his hard body while his fingers drummed hypnotic beats against her back, her hips, her thighs.

His tongue touched hers and she lost herself in sensation, her fingers digging deep into the nape of his neck and dragging through the soft down of his hair. She raised herself higher on her feet and tried to get closer, closer, _closer_ to that elusive sense of completion, but it seemed nothing could quench the burning fire that raged throughout her body.

"_Cloud,"_ she moaned in desperation, the heretofore unknown name coming naturally to her lips.

And as suddenly as that, she found herself thrown back into the art gallery, her breathing heavy as if she had just run a mile. _Or had just been kissed out of her mind_.

Oh god. She had just fantasized about a man in a portrait. She raised shaking hands to her cheeks and found them heated, but whether it was from embarrassment or unfulfilled desire, she could not say.

She really needed to get away. She turned to leave, but she couldn't help herself as she checked the small plaque beneath the painting hoping to see the name of the artist. Somehow she wasn't surprised when it was assigned as "Unknown."

Pity she would not be able to research other pieces of art from the brush of this master, but it seemed fitting that such a majestic work of art did not have a known artist. If she didn't know better, she could almost swear that something like this could only be the work of a god. Maybe that was why…

_Good lord, just _forget_ it!_ cried the sensible part of her mind. The rest of her agreed after only the briefest hesitation.

The club was starting to sound better and better.

…

If one had been very carefully observing the portrait of the unnamed man by the unknown artist, they would have been startled to find that those bright blue eyes darkened fractionally as they shifted to watch an unsettled young brunette hurry out of the gallery. Then they would have seen the hard lips curve into a possessive smirk, one dark enough to send shivers down the spine of the bravest soul.

* * *

A/N: Just as a disclaimer for any grammar nerds who I know are lurking out there somewhere (especially knowing that I'm one too): I know that I suddenly change tenses between the paragraphs of the "kiss." It's on purpose. It's supposed to signify a shift from Tifa's imaginings to "reality." If you caught that, good for you. If not...well, I just explained it for you anyway. :)

Sequel pending on how well the plot bunnies cooperate. Thanks for reading!

Thank you: **kerapal bubbles**, Seelenspiel, **Iskra revoir**, vLuna, **xoVanilla-Bean**, mom calling, **SorrowsFlower**


	15. Composed: dukeverse

A/N: So it looks like my "Painting" drabble has spawned a mini-series. I plan on having an additional 3-4 drabbles to finish off this storyline. This is a prequel of sorts to "Painting" and I think there'll be 1-2 more like this that are set approximately 300 years before "Painting" and then another 1-2 set after "Painting." One of my wonderful reviewers asked how Tifa knew Cloud's name, and while I don't want to over-analyze the supernatural bent here, I guess the prequels will help set the background.

I also think that this is a shameless result of having read one too many historical romances lately... hehe...

Anyhow, leave a review if you so desire and I hope you enjoy!

* * *

**ANOTHER LIFETIME**

_#29_: Composed  
_Summary_: He had the wealth, the status, and the looks to have anything he wanted...and he wanted her.  
_Word Count_: 987  
_Originally posted_: September 2, 2010

* * *

Cloud Strife, the notorious sixth Duke of Midgar, was the type of man that everyone would love to hate. His long-revered title came in conjunction with a disgusting amount of wealth upon which each year he seemed to add with staggering consistency. He was worshiped in all circles, whether it be social, political, or even the underground criminal world (though of course none would _dare_ breathe a word that the duke was involved in anything remotely nefarious).

Astounding wealth and impeccable social status would be bad itself by themselves, but to add insult to injury, he was also obnoxiously _attractive_, though that is far too frail a word to describe the extent of his physical beauty.

Yes, his were the portraits that women of all ages sighed after: the young ladies in wishful dreams wherein he would sweep them off their feet and bind himself in sweet matrimony with them (because of course, no proper young lady would dare be seen with him alone otherwise), the old in wistful sighs wherein they lamented that he wasn't born forty years earlier, and—Cloud's personal favorite—the independent young widows who threw sultry glances at him (and some, quite a bit more) in hopes of a night with the infamous duke.

One would think that his lethal popularity with the fairer sex would have embittered the male half of the population against him, but reality was that _everyone_ fawned over Cloud. No one could afford not to. Not to say he didn't have his enemies, but for all his arrogance and high-handedness, the man himself was actually quite likeable.

Those (very far) beneath him in station could not complain at his generosity and thoughtfulness; those (very, very few) above him thought him to be the image of trustworthiness; and those of equal station…actually, he did not treat those of equal station with much respect at all save for a select few, but perhaps that was a sign of his superior intelligence more than a defect in character. After all, he was never one for the rampant hypocrisy that seemed an inborn trait in the aristocracy.

But he _was _the Duke of Midgar after all and none would dare oppose him openly.

Perhaps that was why he was somewhat surprised that it was amusement, albeit the kind laced with the decidedly baser emotion of lust, and not irritation tickling his lips when _she_ dared to defy him.

"_No,_" emphatically repeated the lovely Lady Tiffany Lockhart, the only daughter of the Earl of Nibelheim, as if her first refusal was not loud enough, though he could have sworn the echoes of its shout reverberated against the drawing room walls even still.

"No, Tifa? Are you very sure?" he murmured as he disregarded etiquette and crowded into her personal space. She instinctively took a step back, but she could only retreat so far before the wall met her back and she was trapped between two very immoveable objects, one of which she annoyingly found herself unconsciously swaying towards. She caught herself quickly, but not enough to escape notice.

Her glare when she caught him smirking would have felled a lesser man, but this was Cloud Strife and _nothing_ could discompose him.

"No," she said once again. He had to give her credit for keeping her voice as steady of such since he could feel the whole length of her delectable body trembling. He dared flatter himself in thinking it to be desire.

The corners of his lips curved into a slow, burning smile, one that promised long, _long_ nights and a violent shiver coursed through her body and seeped into his. "No, you are not very sure? Or no, you don't want me?"

It pleased him that it took her a full ten seconds before she could drag her gaze from his lips to his eyes and another five before she could reply, somewhat shakily this time, "The second."

He brought his hand up to her face, deliberately grazing his fingertips ever so lightly against the outer curve of her breast as he did so. "I think you're lying. I think you want me just as much as I want you."

Her cheeks flushed a delightful shade of red, but refused to answer.

Cloud pondered his options. With any other woman, he would have simply laid siege on her lips until she relented in bliss—which, admittedly was what his body ached to do—but Tifa Lockhart was not just any other woman. If he played his cards right, she would be his wife in less than a month. There was no need to rush, and somehow he knew that to push her too far too quickly would have her refusing him even more soundly. Yes, his best option was to retreat for now.

Decision made, he prepared himself to pull away from her—an action infinitely more difficult than he would have ever suspected.

But…he glanced down at her eyes, half-lidded and utterly seductive though he was fairly certain she had no idea she was doing it, and found himself grinning. Surely he could give her—and himself—a little taste of what was to come?

The tip of her tongue came out to moisten her dried lips and he groaned. What a fool he was to think that he could resist!

His lips came upon hers before he was even aware of it.

At any other time, this lack of awareness would have startled him, but in this moment, as he caressed those full lips with his own, he was only aware that it felt wonderfully like coming home.

* * *

Thank you: , mom calling, **DemonicAngel67**, scarleta08, **Toriga-Okami**, kerapal bubbles, **Twinnet**, vLuna, **sasusakufan2357**


	16. Convenient: dukeverse

A/N: Oh dear, this plot seems to be running into a much bigger monster than I anticipated. We'll see how I indulge those fuzzy little plot bunnies. Anyhow, chronologically, this comes after "Composed" and before "Painting."

Enjoy!

* * *

**ANOTHER LIFETIME**

_#49_: Convenient  
_Summary_: She hated that he thought he could just waltz right in and claim her without so much as a by-your-leave.  
_Word Count_: 1,030  
_Originally Posted_: September 6, 2010

* * *

Tifa Lockhart was a fool.

At least that was the constant refrain in her head after her narrow escape and subsequent flight from the infuriating Duke of Arrogant in the drawing room. Her skin tingled, her cheeks—and some other unnamable parts of her as well—flushing with heat just thinking about the encounter with who must be the most irresistible man alive.

And she who prided herself on her good sense and level head found to her miserable surprise that he _was_ irresistible, even to her. Because if she were honest with herself, and she liked to think that she usually was, the truth was that if Cloud hadn't stopped, she didn't think she would have put up any real resistance.

Dear lord, what was happening to her? One kiss was all it took to steal away all her good sense?

But goodness, what a kiss it was!

If he had come with fire and force, perhaps she would have still had the presence of mind to refuse. After all, he was not the first suitor who'd tried to press unwelcome advances—she cringed slightly in acknowledgement that _his _advances were not quite unwelcome—on her. She was quite adept at fending them off, a feat that usually involved a well-aimed knee to a certain unmentionable male body part.

No, Cloud Strife didn't overwhelm her by physical force nor did he come at her against her will. That, she scolded herself, was the worst part. She'd practically _begged_ for him to ravish her. He'd seduced her with feather light touches that had her aching for more pressure, more friction, more _something_ and she recalled with a hot blush that she'd actually followed his mouth eagerly when he'd pulled back a fraction of an inch.

She thought she'd felt his lips spread into a smirk at this point, but she was already too far gone to care that she'd fallen into his trap.

Oh, but what a glorious trap it was!

His kisses were a scorching temptation that drugged her more thoroughly than all the opium in the world. They lit a fire in her that threatened at every moment to suddenly burst into a raging inferno. He teased and taught her lips and tongue to move and dance in ways she'd never even dreamed and all she could do was moan for _more_.

Her whole body felt flushed at the recollection.

Before, she'd never quite understood the obsession with Cloud that ran rampant throughout the aristocracy. She certainly knew now his appeal to the female sex; perhaps that should be termed _danger_, really.

If she hadn't seen him and experienced it for herself, she would have never believed that Cloud Strife was capable of rendering a usually sensible woman so completely undone simply by virtue of a single kiss.

After all, she'd practically grown up with him. Their mothers were best friends, and they'd often spent their summers together in the country. Of course she'd noticed when he started growing into his limbs and his face, which had always had an ephemeral beauty to it, hardened into the sculpted splendor of a _man_, but it was with the somewhat detached curiosity of a sister noticing a brother becoming, God forbid, _attractive_ to the opposite sex, not through the eyes of a grown woman that relished such masculine perfection.

Their ways parted when she was thirteen and he eighteen; Cloud had gone to study at the reputable SOLDIER institution, and she had remained in Nibelheim, supposedly in training to be a proper lady of society. At times her mother despaired that she would never grow out of her unladylike ways, what with the shooting, the hunting, and—the revered Countess of Nibelheim once nearly fainted at the mention—riding horseback _astride_. Fortunately, her mother acknowledged that, and for which Tifa rejoiced, Tifa possessed an innate grace that allowed her to skimp on many a lesson on decorum in favor of the decidedly less ladylike pursuits aforementioned.

Seven years passed and in the interim Tifa and Cloud had exchanged the occasional letter, but with distance and time between them, the letters grew increasingly formal. Tifa thought it a shame, but acknowledged sensibly that it was only natural. It wasn't as if they could just romp together in the fields any longer. (The mental image of _romping_ in the fields with the current Cloud Strife had her all a-tingling once again.)

Imagine her surprise when, at the largest ball of the year, the most gorgeous man there was none other than her childhood friend Cloud Strife and not only that, he seemed intent on capturing the favor of _herself_.

Initially she was flattered, and not just a little bit smug that the most eligible but elusive bachelor would choose _her_, but it became clear that he had already made an arrangement with her parents that they would marry within the season.

Then she was simply angry. She knew exactly why he was offering for her now. She was a logical choice, a _convenient _one, she reflected bitterly. Her bloodlines were impeccable, her dowry considerable, and she was not humble enough to deny her beauty. There was also the little added benefit that he'd known her practically since birth and therefore knew that she would never stray from her marriage vows, a welcome though rare asset in a society where fidelity was seen as superfluous.

The reminder of his cold-blooded arrangement for their marriage rekindled her ire. Did he think to woo her so easily with a single (well, perhaps their encounter numbered slightly more than that), measly (she was actively lying to herself now) kiss? He would dare to try to _seduce_ a favorable response from her?

Fie on him! He'll learn better than to underestimate a Lockhart.

* * *

Thank you: **mom calling**, Twinnet, **et cetera et cetera**, xoxo, **LoLLiPoP LoViNG**, too lazy to log in (I'm assuming that's not your sn, but since I don't know what else to address you as...)**, kerapal bubbles, **JingYee, **DemonicAngel67**, Fenikkusuken (there you go! a "kick to the codpiece," just not Cloud's...haha), **vLuna**, scarleta08, **neurogal09**


	17. Awake: dukeverse

A/N: I have a bit of a dilemma. While this duke!verse series has been utterly fun to write, it won't contain itself! The plot keeps getting bigger and bigger and I don't really want to use up so many prompts on it. I still have at least 2 more after this that are already half-written, but I might just have to end it on a not-so satisfactory note because it's just getting too big. My other solution is to yank it out into a full story by itself, but I don't know if I'm up to that since I'm still working on **PRO BONO **and, yes I'm still at it, **IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE**.

Decisions, decisions... In the meantime, we are back to the present in this installment. This occurs AFTER "Painting."

Enjoy!

* * *

**ANOTHER LIFETIME**

_#47_: Awake  
_Summary_: It was a strange, this business of being fully alive again.  
_Word Count_: 878  
_Originally Posted_: September 25, 2010

* * *

It was a strange feeling, being able to move his limbs again. Three hundred and twenty years was a long time to have one's soul trapped in a portrait after all.

Unconsciously, Cloud kept on flexing and wriggling his fingers, pleasantly delighted each time his digits responded nimbly and in automatic accordance with his commands. It amazed him to think how much he had taken for granted. Three hundred years of only being able to rely on two senses, his hearing and his sight, gave him a new appreciation for the ones he'd been deprived of these long, slow years.

Ridiculous as it was, he even relished the arid stink of garbage that pervaded the back alley behind the bar. If he could take joy in even the worst of odors, he could only imagine the ecstasy he would find in breathing in _her_ personal aroma. Of course, smell was not the only sense he intended to explore her with.

His eyes, having already burned into his visual memory the delicate lines of her beauty, teased him with the knowledge that her skin was probably just as soft as it looked. His ears taunted him with thoughts of what her naturally husky tones, which already spoke to him melodies of an innate sensuality tempered with sweet innocence, would sound like moaning his name.

But it was not enough to only see and hear her. He had to touch her, smell her…taste her. Oh yes, taste…perhaps his favorite sense of all.

It pleased him to think that her lips would taste the same even after three hundred years. If anything, that deliciously sensual mouth of hers was more potent than ever, and he hadn't even sampled her in reality yet. His body burned just at the thought of her.

"You are certain that it is wise to confront her here?"

The deep voice interrupted his salacious thoughts and Cloud Strife turned to his companion. Vincent Valentine, as he was known now, was a stoic sort, all dark hair and dark clothes and dark everything save for his skin, which boasted a shade so pale white, it sometimes looked translucent.

Cloud had long ago given up trying to determine which of the two of them had been betrayed more grievously, but the end results were much the same. While Cloud had been doomed to an eternity bound to a portrait, Vincent had been damned to forever wander the earth as something not completely human. It was little wonder they became friends; it had been the same man who'd destroyed both their lives.

That, and for reasons still unknown to both of them, Vincent had been the only one able to communicate with Cloud on that ethereal plane that existed somewhere between dreams and reality these past three hundred years until _she_ finally appeared.

He couldn't decide what he was feeling now that she was finally here. For the first hundred years after his curse, he'd despaired of her never showing up. He'd raged and raged and plotted his revenge with single-minded ruthlessness. Consumed with hatred, it had been Vincent's calming presence that finally taught him to do more with his time than hatch plans of a vengeance that would likely never happen. Over the next two hundred years, he redirected his burning passion toward learning. Vincent had procured his portrait long ago and done him the great favor of hanging him in the great halls of his mansions or in the stately rooms of his museums. Always though, it was in a place where he would be able to hear the lectures on the newest theories on politics, science, economics, and so on. If he had thought himself learned as a duke, he realized now that he was ignorant.

"What are you in this lifetime again?" he questioned the tall man with long dark hair, seemingly ignoring his earlier question.

If Vincent was confused by the turn in conversation, he did not show it. "You know very well that I am the curator of the museum in which your portrait was housed."

Cloud made an amused sound. "Appropriate. The never-dead acting as guardian over the remnants of the dead."

He breathed in the stench once again and closed his eyes in anticipation. Three hundred years. He couldn't decide whether he should seek vengeance or satisfaction first. Perhaps a little of both, he mused as he rubbed chapped lips in remembrance of the searing brand of her lips. Yes, both will do nicely.

"No, I will not confront her here. But I will make certain that she is…aware. After all, I should think that my bride will be happy to see me alive and well. Don't you?"

Vincent did not answer but he did not need to. The dark smile on Cloud's face said it all. Cold he may be, but even Vincent felt a pang of unease for the unknowing girl. She might as well have sold her soul to the devil for Cloud will not let her go this time.

* * *

**A/N**: FF net is acting up again and I can't seem to access my reviews page for this collection. My apologies for not being able to get your names up here, but thank you very much to everyone who has been reviewing and enjoying this series thus far!


	18. Burst: dukeverse

A/N: Thanks for all your feedback! I'm glad people are enjoying this verse because it's been a whole lot of fun writing it. It's much more sensual than what I'm used to writing, but it's been a good experience in expanding my repertoire. Anyhow, as of right now, I still haven't quite decided what to do with this series. I have one more waiting to be written, but after that, I think I want to focus back on **PRO BONO** again. That being said, I think I've been around long enough to know that my muse is unreliable and prone to wandering all over the place. Meh...

Anyhow, here's a bit more suspense for you all. Takes place right after "Awake." Enjoy! :)

* * *

**ANOTHER LIFETIME**

_#6_: Burst  
_Summary_: She dreamt of him and, she thinks it might be, her, but she wished it wasn't because that would mean that she'd betrayed him.  
_Word Count_: 777  
_Originally Posted_: September 28, 2010

* * *

Tifa wondered if she might be going insane.

It was one thing to have an overactive imagination which saw her ravished beyond her senses by a man in a portrait three hundred years old, but it was an entirely _other_ thing to see that same man—living, breathing, _real_—following her wherever she went.

He was standing in the shadows watching her with that unsettling intense gaze when she made small talk with the bartender, and he hovered at the fringe of her vision when she tried to shake off the weight of his stare on the dance floor. She could have sworn she'd felt his touch burning across her bare shoulders sometimes but when she turned to see, he was never there. It was driving her crazy. Or maybe she was already crazy and he was a figment of her imagination?

But no. Yuffie had noticed him too and teased her mercilessly about his singular attention to her. Tifa didn't go out much, so Yuffie was always trying to find reasons she should. Apparently, hot men with stalker-ish tendencies fell under "reasons to go out." Tifa didn't quite get the logic in that.

He was such a persistent shadow all night, she was somewhat surprised to find her apartment empty when she finally went home frustrated and strangely restless. For a while she kept on jumping at the shadows and freezing at the slightest sounds, and every time she berated herself for being so foolish. Tifa considered herself a rational woman at heart, so by the time she finished her nightly routine, she was already laughing at herself for being so paranoid. Slipping into her small but comfortable bed, she fell into sleep's embrace quickly, her mind blissfully free of any dark strangers.

She was happy too early for he was in every one of her dreams that night.

They came in successive bursts, an endless assault on her subconscious that had her alternately squirming with desire and cowering in shame. It was a strange contrast, those dreams. Some proved so sensually addictive that it made her heated body writhe against her bed sheets. But for every sweet imagination (or was it a memory?), there followed quickly after another of horror. _Those_ cooled her ardor as quickly as the fantasies of his touch fired it.

Because in those other dreams, she'd betrayed him.

_Ohgodohgodohgod, what had she _done_? She hadn't wanted this. She never wanted this! Give him back, give him back, give him back, damn it! _

"_Why, Tifa?" his eyes accused her. She had no answer._

Selfish. She was selfish and she thought herself so clever in dodging their betrothal. Manipulated and fooled, she sold his soul, something not even hers to sell. But the worst part was that she hadn't _truly_ wanted to break off their impending and inevitable marriage; she'd just wanted it to happen on different terms—_her_ terms. She hadn't wanted a marriage of convenience; she'd wanted love.

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Cloud…_

All she managed to do was doom him to an eternal hell.

_His screams of agony reverberated around, within, her and she clutched her head in pain._

In the end, she was left with nothing. No, it was worse than nothing. She owed a debt, one that could not be repaid with even a lifetime.

_Give him back! Please, give him back to me. Please…_

His eyes—anguished and betrayed—kept flashing before her, mocking her for her stupidity.

_Maniacal laughter. "It is done, my Lady. As you had wished."_

_No, no, NO! She didn't wish. She didn't! Give him back! She just wanted him back._

Hot tears spilled from her sleeping eyes and her fingers clenched white against the sheets._  
_

"_It is done_." _The voice of a madman rang in her ears._

_She dropped to her knees, a pistol suddenly clutched in her hand. _

_BANG!_

She woke with a start, lungs fighting desperately for air while tears and sweat ran mingled down her cheeks.

The hand came out of nowhere to force her against a hard chest. "So you begin to remember, do you, my sweet?"

Her scream pierced the air.

* * *

Shout-outs for all my reviewers from chapters 16: **Twinnet**, Fenikkusuken, **xoxo**, midnight cowgirl rides again, **sasusakufan2357**, JingYee, **et cetera et cetera**, vLuna, **Rend**, kerapal bubbles, **mom calling**, DemonicAngel67

...and for chapter 17: **beaucoup riant**, midnight cowgirl, **lollipop loving**, too lazy to log in, **luxe**, Anon, **dreaming sapphire** , kerapal bubbles, **OMo**, JingYee, **vLuna**, neurogal09, **Rend, **mom calling, **DemonicAngel67**, Fenikkusuken


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